WAYLON (Ruthless MC 1)

I let out a sigh when I realize he's not there and that everything will go exactly as planned without a hitch.

But no relief accompanies those thoughts, only a strange ache in my chest.

And then, before I know it, I'm standing in front of Jonathan, and he's lifting my veil.

He looks so handsome in his tux. Dr. America—what every mother who isn't a junkie would want for her daughter.

You’re lucky. You’re so, so lucky. I keep repeating that to myself as the pastor begins to speak.

But as he drones on, I can't relax. And it's not just because I’ve got a huge audience looking at me as I make all my dreams finally come true. I keep surreptitiously scanning the church.

It feels like I'm being watched. But he’s not in the audience or any of the church’s shadowed corners near the back…wait a minute.

Just as the pastor asks Jonathan if he “takes this woman to be his lawfully wedded wife,” a new thought occurs to me.

I've scanned the church for him several times. But I never looked up.

I raise my eyes to the mezzanine—the balcony section that should be empty.

Only, it isn’t.

There he is. Standing above us all.

Like a god.

Or a devil.

Even though he's far away, I can clearly see his eyes as if he were standing as close as he was in my dream.

Those crystal blue eyes, those icy lakes I was always so afraid of falling into—they’re blazing. And glued to me.

Waylon. He’s here. A flurry of memories flickers through my mind…

His fingers inside me…

His mouth claiming mine….

Him telling me this is exactly where we were supposed to be.

The orgasm exploding through my body after he made me say I belonged to him.

Angel?

Yes?

Be here when I wake up.

“Amira? Amira?”

I blink back to reality and turn to see both Jonathan and the pastor looking at me quizzically.

"Yes?" I ask, my voice shaking.

The pastor glances between Jonathan and me, then says, “Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

I have a bad feeling this isn't the first time he's asked.

I know what the answer is. I know what it should be. This is everything I've ever wanted. And Waylon….Waylon is everything I shouldn’t want.

I swallow and open my mouth.

But the one word that comes out doesn’t have three letters. It only has two.

CHAPTER 19

“No! You just stood there and said no!” Jonathan starts angrily whispering at me as soon as we enter the church library—about five minutes after I paused our whole ceremony and asked if we could go somewhere and talk.

Earlier, Sierra and I waited in this small room lined with shelves full of biblical texts until it was time for us to get in position for the wedding—had that really been less than an hour ago? It felt like a century had passed since then.

“I'm sorry,” I whisper back. Guilt rolls my stomach as the memory of that devil MC standing in the church balcony flickers in my head like something that should come with an epileptic seizure warning.

“Sorry isn't good enough!” Jonathan whisper shouts.

He’s right. He’s so right.

What is wrong with me? Why did I say no instead of yes? Why did I ask Jonathan to come back here and talk instead of just correcting myself and salvaging the situation right there at the altar?

Why hadn’t I simply ignored the MC and gone on with the life I had planned?

“I know sorry isn't good enough,” I answer, wringing my hands. I don’t even have to bother whispering anymore. My voice is quiet and weak with misery. It honestly feels like I’m about to throw up. “This is all my fault.”

“You're damn right this is all your fault,” Jonathan agrees. “You just embarrassed me in front of my whole family and all of my friends—not to mention my coworkers! How am I supposed to show my face at work after our honeymoon?”

Bile rises in my throat. From guilt, I hope, not from the thought of still going on the three-day honeymoon to his grandparents’ cabin in upstate New York that Trudy planned for us.

Either way, I try apologizing again. “Jonathan, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.”

He slits his eyes at me. “Was this your plan all along? To get back at me for that accident by humiliating me?”

“What?” I jerk back with surprise. “No, of course not!”

But I can’t be insulted. He’s right. This is all my fault, and I owe him an explanation. “I never wanted to hurt you. But everything felt so wrong. Not inviting Ant. That big argument last night. I just couldn't marry you without—”

Something comes flying at me before I can finish trying to explain. Pain cracks across my face, and I stumble and fall, my heavy gown dragging me to the floor.

He punched me.

The realization hits me just as hard as Jonathan’s fist. He punched me. And this time, it most definitely wasn’t an accident.